Bad Boys for Hire: Ryker (Bad Boys for Hire #1)
Page 11
“I’m telling you, it was tragic.” Ken’s voice slurred louder, and he hiccupped a sob. “There I was, standing in front of the waterfall to get married. Well, you know the Storm Goddess and how her daddy’s in a wheelchair?”
By now, Ryker’s brothers and half the other patrons in the bar were huddled around, listening to Ken tell his story.
“Yeah, serves him right for starting that war against us,” Ryker’s father growled. “Don’t keep us waiting. What happened?”
Ken bowed his head and snuffled, pretending that he couldn’t continue.
“Hey, bartender,” Drake yelled. “Give his guy another beer.”
A drink was quickly procured and Ken knocked it back, his throat wobbling as he swallowed the ale. He set the frosted mug down with a thump.
“They drove off the cliff. All three of them. The mother was driving the motorcycle with Teresa sitting on the passenger seat and her father cramped in a sidecar. I can still picture them, coming down the aisle on a Harley Road King, puttering along. My beautiful bride all in white, her veil and gown fluttering in the wind.”
“Why didn’t they stop in front of the altar?” Ryker prompted.
“No one knows.” Ken sniffed and wiped his eyes. “Instead of slowing down, she sped up, like the throttle was stuck, or she forgot how to brake. The last I saw of my beautiful bride was her veil flying high off her head as the bike sailed over the cliff, landing in the spray of the waterfall.”
“Wow, is this on the internet?” Ryker’s father exclaimed. “Look at what I miss while in the pen.”
“No one captured it,” Ken said. “It was in a remote area in South America, and the officials had stolen all of our cameras and phones. Oh, how I wish I had pictures of my dear, departed bride.”
Ryker put his arm over Ken’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for you, man. Is there anything you still have of hers? She must have made quite an impression on you.”
“She did.” Ken opened his jacket and withdrew a crumpled leather vest. “I carry this everywhere I go, close to my heart.”
Ryker’s father sucked in a breath and held out his hand. “May I see it?”
“Sure, it’s her club vest.” He unfolded it and dangled it for everyone to see.
Sure enough, the patches in the front identified her as “Storm Princess,” along with the chapter tag and the club logo of the Storm Demons.
Instinctively, all the men observed a moment of silence at the sight of the vest. Usually, the owner of the vest, or cut, was buried in it. Even though Teresa Terkel was only a woman, the vest was still important to her, especially since she had been the daughter of the Club President.
A gunshot blew out a light above their heads. Immediately, Ryker reached for his gun and so did all of his brothers.
“Give me that cut,” a man’s voice yelled. “That’s Storm Demon property.”
“No, it’s all I have of my dear, departed Storm Goddess,” Ken said, still playing his role.
“Then take my bullet.” A large, bearded man wearing the Storm Demon patch pointed his gun at Ken.
“Take it then,” Ken quickly said. He threw the cut at the bearded man and ducked.
The man held his gun steady, pointing it at Ryker. “When’s the last time you checked on your old lady?”
Shouts and hollers erupted in the bar.
“Old lady? You?” Pops slammed a fist into his back. “A Storm Demon?”
“No, I have no one.” Ryker held his hands up. “I’ve never met this man before.”
“Something’s gone down at Love Me Flowers. I think you better check it out.” The bearded man kept his gun trained on Ryker, oblivious to Axe Salvadori, the owner of Club Rachelle, sneaking up from behind him.
The club owner hammered the big man with a bottle of whiskey, breaking it over his head, and the man went down.
Ryker ran out the door and made for his bike. Love Me Flowers was Terri’s flower shop. How could his brothers and father have ordered a hit on her while they were here celebrating? Maybe they had used their prospects to do the dirty work.
His heart thumping like a wrecking ball, he sped toward Terri’s shop. Behind him rose the roar of other Harleys, but he had no time for evasive techniques. Terri was in trouble.
Just the fact a Storm Demon braved going into the Club Rachelle surrounded by all the Metal Wolves meant it had to be dire.
He skidded to a stop in front of the shop and kicked his kickstand, dismounting at the same time. The shop door was wide open, but no one was behind the counter.
“Terri, Terri,” he yelled, running through the curtains to the back room. It was empty. Where could she have gone?
His brothers, father, and even a few prospects barged in after him, filling the small interior with burly bodies and heavy boots.
“Your old lady’s name is Terri?” Drake asked. “Hey, isn’t she that blond broad? The one with the fat ass?”
“Shut it.” Ryker shoved him aside and went to have a look at the cash register to see if she’d been robbed.
A note dangled. Come down Old La Honda road to the barn behind the shooting range. Your old lady awaits your hand in marriage. Be there tonight at eight with your entire family, or you won’t see her ever again.
“What the hell?” Drake snatched the note. “This sounds like a setup.”
“Sound like an opportunity,” Pops said. “I say you better fess up now. Who’s your old lady? She might be the one setting this up.”
“Look, if it’s a set up, the last thing you all should do is barge in there,” Ryker said, disengaging from them. His pulse was skyrocketing and sweat streamed down his back, but he had to remain calm. “My girlfriend is into drama. She’s not a part of the motorcycle scene, so you all are over-imagining. Let me handle it.”
“Oh, no, you’re a Wolf and we Wolves hunt in a pack,” Maddox said, yanking the note from Ryker. “I say we ride, but be prepared for an ambush.”
Ryker wasn’t going to stand around and argue like old ladies. He shoved everyone aside and stormed out the door. They were going to follow him anyways, and if Terri’s father had a trap set up for them, then so be it.
Terri was already in trouble, and her only chance was for him to sacrifice his life for her. Maybe then, his family would see how stupid this feud was.
Maybe then, Terri’s father would finally see the stupidity of continuing the feud. Either way, he had to save Terri—trap or no trap.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Terri’s tongue felt too big for her mouth, and her head was fuzzy and woozy. She was flat on her back with a pillow under her head. The sheets she lay on were satiny, and a strong scent of cinnamon mixed with cedar wood made her nose tickle.
She tried raising her hand to scratch her nose, but it would not budge. Her eyelids were stuck together, and her mouth wouldn’t move. Where was she?
Wasn’t she supposed to go on a date with the proctologist? Dr. Frisk or something like that? Had he kidnapped her and drugged her? Where was Ryker?
She tried quieting her mind and concentrating on her surroundings. Maybe she was in the hospital. What if she’d suffered a stroke? Everything was dark, and she couldn’t tell if her eyes were opened or closed.
Her mind drifted, and she fought the heaviness threatening to pull her under. Panic welled in her heart, as she struggled to take even breaths.
The faint chirping of crickets told her she was outside of the city. The air was cool enough, but not freezing, so she was most likely in some kind of shelter.
The sound of heavy footsteps and the whirring of an electronic motor approached. Terri held her breath to concentrate on hearing more.
“You sure she’s going to be okay?” Her father’s voice drifted through the fog in her mind. He sounded as if he were far away, or she had cotton over her ears.
“It’s a short acting dose, just enough to get us through the funeral.” Her mother cackled. “I can’t wait to see the faces of those Metal Wolves.”
“You worry too much. Our informant told us they’re on their way. The old man, Ernie, and all his sons.”
“Great. I have all our men in place. They won’t get far.”
“They’ll be armed,” her mother reminded. “But we have snipers in the rafters.”
Rafters? Where the hell was she?
Terri twitched her nose, but the scent of cinnamon and cedar was too strong. Her nose itched, and she felt a sneeze coming on.
“Muh … Mom,” she uttered, trying to clear her throat.
Her parents continued talking, and the footsteps receded further away. Why weren’t they helping her? Why was she in a bed with snipers in the rafters?
Her fingers unfroze enough for her to move them. The satiny material underneath her was stiff and ruffled, almost like it was a lining for a jewelry box. She pressed down and found the edges hard, like wood or metal.
She was gradually able to raise her hand to her chest. She was wearing something with tiny smooth beads and gauze. Was this the dress her mother had bought for her to go on the date with the doctor?
He’d done something to her, and her parents were in on it. Had to be. They wanted to trap Ryker and his family. Terri’s heart raced. She had to get out and warn them. But how?
Her one hand raised and hit something hard like a lid. Was she inside a box? Was that why it was so dark? She bumped the lid again, and panic seized her veins.
She was dead, or her parents believed her to be dead. She was inside a casket. It all made sense now. The satiny sides, the beautiful dress, the veil over her face?
Was she in a wedding dress?
Terri raised her hand again and thumped. But the noise sounded too faint, even to her ears. She tried to kick, willing her feet to move. Thump.
The deep throated roar of a million Harleys drowned her out.
No, no, no! Ryker and his family had arrived. Terri twisted and turned, and this time, both hands worked. She tried to scream, tried to make noise. Anything to warn her dear Ryker to get away.
Snipers in the rafters.
Murder.
Revenge.
Help!
Her heels and palms connected with the coffin as she wiggled and squirmed.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Unfortunately, a hail of gunfire deafened her ears, and no one was paying attention to the wiggling coffin she was trapped inside.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ryker took cover behind a water trough and returned fire, picking off a man with a rifle perched in the hayloft.
Guns blazed from his family. Another man fell, and he heard a strangled cry from behind him.
“Cover me,” Ryker yelled to his father. Wherever Terri was, he wanted to sweep the barn and make sure she was safe.
“Don’t go in there. Let’s set fire to the barn and kill them all.” Pops wore a maniacal grin on his face. “I brought the explosives. Just got to get them to stop shooting so I can set up.”
“Terri might be in there.” Ryker took a step, but was driven back by bullets clinking over the metal trough.
His father returned a barrage of gunfire, and Ryker slipped toward the side of the barn. Maybe Terri wasn’t inside and the note was a ruse. Pops was sure Terri was behind this—that she was the mastermind and deserved to die.
No way would she hurt him. She wasn’t built that way—unlike her father, the double-crossing boss who’d smiled in his face at work and had now set up this ambush.
Ryker rolled on the ground, barely missed getting hit. He crept forward in the shadows and crawled under a rickety stable fence.
Bales of hay were piled behind the stable. Ryker scrambled to the top and peered into the window. Everything was dark except for a spotlight trained on an altar of sorts. A metallic coffin lay on the altar surrounded by stands of funeral flowers.
Ryker’s heart seized as he recognized the name on the banners. Teresa Terkel. Despite his training, tears welled into his eyes. Had someone gotten to her while he was regaling his father with the fake story of her death? Who would have been the rat who’d sniffed them out?
Or was this all staged to trap his family?
“What are you doing up there, boy?” The gruff voice of Terri’s father sounded behind him, and a hand clapped over his shoulder. “Drop your weapons.”
Ryker turned, stunned, as the man yanked him off the bales of hay. His wheelchair was nowhere in sight, and he was standing on his own two legs.
The muzzle of a gun pressed against Ryker’s temple.
Truth? He could take the old man easily, gun or no gun, but Terri was more important.
Ryker dropped his gun and held up his hands. “Where’s Terri? What did you do to her?”
“She’s safe. Turn around and call off your men. Nice and slow.”
“I’m not going to hurt you. I gave my word,” Ryker said.
“Doesn’t matter. Your father’s out there shooting at us, and he’ll keep coming after us. Move it.”
Ryker kept his hands up and moved slowly so he was in view of his family. “Everyone, cease fire!”
“Drop your weapons or he dies,” Terri’s father yelled. “Everyone march into the barn, single file.”
“Hell no, Terkel,” Ryker’s father called out.
“I’m counting to three, or your son dies,” Terkel replied.
“Do as he says,” Ryker shouted. To Terkel, he said, “Is Terri safe? Who’s in that casket?”
Terkel shoved him forward, the gun still held firmly to Ryker’s temple. He glared at Ryker’s family. “I don’t have all day or night. Say goodbye to your boy.”
One by one, his brothers and the prospects marched toward the barn door with their hands up. The bearded man who’d accosted them at Club Rachelle frisked them, throwing their hidden weapons onto a pile.
“You better not hurt my family,” Ryker said. “I gave my word to protect Terri. If you kill them, I will kill you.” Ryker growled at Terkel.
“Not if I kill you first.”
“Then you kill your daughter’s heart. I love her. I’ve told you that. I’ve put myself and my family at a disadvantage. You think I can’t at this moment turn the gun on you, old man?”
“Shut up and get in the barn.” Terkel kicked the back of Ryker’s leg.
“Why aren’t you in a wheelchair?” Ryker couldn’t think of anything else to say. Strange how calm he felt going to his doom. Maybe it was because his Terri was safe. If Terkel won, at least Terri would live—unless she was already dead, and this was a revenge ploy.
“You’ll do exactly as I say.” Terkel removed the gun from Ryker’s temple. “Go up to the casket and lift the lid.”
Ryker marched up the aisle between his brothers and father who each stood with a Storm Demon pointing a gun at them.
“Do something,” his father hissed. “You’re a Marine. Don’t you have no cojones?”
The lights turned on, and the sound of organ music filled the barn. Wagner’s Bridal Chorus echoed through the barn. Terri’s mother appeared on the arm of a Storm Demon. She was led to a folded metal chair in front of the coffin. From the other side of the barn, his mother entered, escorted by a Metal Wolf prospect.
What the hell? Was that guy a traitor or what? He was one of the men who had stood outside guarding the bikes.
“Go ahead, lift the lid of the casket.” Terri’s father prodded him. “Just so you know, it’s bullet proof, so no funny business.”
The music segued to the traditional Wedding March, full and majestic. By now, Ryker was sure what he’d find. If Terri had planned this, she was a genius. It meant she’d found a way for them to be married without too much mayhem.
“What about the wounded?” Ryker turned to face Terri’s father. “We need to get medical care for them.”
“All taken care of. You didn’t see the ambulances standing by? Go and claim your bride.” A triumphant smirk settled on the o
lder man’s face. “You have my permission to marry her.”
Ryker’s heart leaped to his throat, and a bubble of happiness welled from his chest. He leaned over at the front of the barn and kissed his mother. “Thank you for being here.”
“I had no choice,” she said. “Go ahead and end the war.”
He peeked at Terri’s mother, but she sat stone faced and didn’t acknowledge him. Likely, she had no choice but to follow the orders of her old man.
Ryker straightened himself and pulled the lapels of his leather jacket in place. In two steps he was in front of the casket.
Terri’s muffled voice called, “Let me out of here. Someone, help!”
“I’m here, my love.” He lifted the lid, and his heart stopped.
She was beautiful. Veiled, rosy cheeked, and gorgeous, like Sleeping Beauty awakened. The wedding dress was crumpled, and her hands were bruised from pounding on the lid, but she was alive and well.
“Ryker, I don’t know what happened. I thought I died, and no one was letting me out.”
“Let me kiss you and make it all okay,” he said, lifting the veil.
“Ahem, no kissing the bride until after the wedding,” Terri’s father said.
“Bride? Who me?” Terri exclaimed, looking around. “Dad, Mom, why didn’t you help me?”
Ryker’s stomach clenched. If she was as surprised as he, it meant her parents had set this scheme up. Were they really going to let the two of them marry? Or was this a way to finish his family off once and for all? Had he been stupid to lead his entire family to their doom?
Terri needed him. Whatever happened, he had to make sure she was safe.
He lifted her from the coffin and hugged her. “I have no idea what’s going on, but if you’re going to marry me, let’s get this done.”
He set her on her feet, but she wobbled, and she wasn’t wearing any shoes, only white stockings.
“You drugged her?” Ryker turned to glare at Terri’s parents.
“She wouldn’t have cooperated,” her mother said, shooting an acid glare at him. “Let’s get this over with.”
Oh no. Ryker was going to do this right. There was no getting over something as important as a wedding.